The Things Unsaid
by queen-sheep
Summary: [AU] On March 1, 1980, there's an anomaly born into the Wizarding World. For the first time in recorded history, there's a baby who can't speak- and his name is Ronald Bilius Weasley.
1. Because all things have a beginning

_I know I really shouldn't be starting another story, especially a multi chapter one, but I just couldn't resist! Hopefully, I won't lose interest like I tend to with my other multi chapters. If there are any errors, or any criticism you can give, just let me know. _

* * *

The day is just beginning, sun streaking across the sky and staining the clouds in brilliant shades of pink and orange and red, when the letter arrives. It's delivered right into the twisting house, placed on top of the pile of other mail, and there it sits patiently as the occupants of the house rise and stumble down the stairs in uneven steps and yawns.

In the kitchen, breakfast is being served and the noise is building up surely and steadily. As the rest of the family packs inside, space becomes a limited resource, and shouting is the only way to be heard. There are brief tussles happening all around the room, and eventually someone is shoved out of the kitchen to get the mail.

The boy, rather tall for his age, scowls and drags his feet to the pile where the owl deposited the mail. He grabs the whole pile, letting out a silent sigh when a couple tumble to the ground. He bends down, shoving them into his arms, until finally, he reaches the last one.

The instance he sees the crest, his heart seizes, and his breath stops short. Fingers trembling, he brushes his hand over rough paper, and then quickly flips it over.

He moves his hand across the green ink centered exactly in the middle on the envelope, mouthing the words to himself, wanting to feel the shape of them.

There's no mistake.

'Mr. R. Weasley

The Attic

Ottery St. Catchpole

Devon'

His letter from Hogwarts is finally here.

Ron picks up the letter gingerly, cradling it tightly in his hands and he retreats back into the kitchen. The trembling has spread down his hands, to his arms and his body, and he's not sure if it's from fear or excitement, or a mix of the two. Whatever it is, he doesn't care, because no one expected him to get the letter.

But it's here, and all he knows is that he, a mute, a cripple, a freak, is being given the chance to go to Hogwarts, and he isn't going to give it up for the world.

Dumping the other mail on some spare counter space, he tucks the letter in his pocket for further inspection later.

-X-

It's after breakfast, and Ron hovers at the edge of the kitchen door nervously. Taking a single deep breath, he steps in, and his mum turns at the sound of footsteps.

"Hello dear," she smiles at him. "Did you need something?"

He draws the letter out of his pocket, slightly worn already from the many times he opened and closed it. She takes the letter from him, and glances over it once, before turning to check the name.

There's no mistake. It's his name, his right. He knows, having checked it over and over again in the past couple hours, just to make sure it's not a dream, or some far off fantasy.

Finally, his mum folds the letter back to its original position, then gives him a _look_. He recognizes that look. Ron can tell he's about to get a long winded speech, and his dread increased when she shouts for his dad to get in the kitchen. But he sets his face determinedly. This is the one thing he absolutely won't back down on.

There's a faint clanging sound and a shout, before his dad absently peers into the kitchen. Ron watches as he observes the scene, the two of them sitting stiffly on the chairs, facing each other.

Hesitantly, he takes the seat next to his mum, and Ron watches as she passes him the Hogwarts letter. His dad takes it, glancing at it briefly before placing it on the table, and then Molly starts talking.

"Ronald," she starts.

Uh oh, he thinks, dread pooling in his stomach. She's used his full name already.

"You won't be attending Hogwarts."

And that's that. Her tone is final, her stare firm and unyielding. Ron tenses, curls into himself, arms clenched tight on his lap, and the red creeps up his neck, his ears. He slowly, arms trembling, reaches into his pocket and takes out his notebook and pen.

They're both muggle things, because ink would spill all over his pants and parchment doesn't bend right and is thick and scratchy and too big.

But before he can use them, his dad speaks up, slow and hesitant.

"Molly, dear," he says, watching her. "Maybe we should talk about this."

She whirls on him, eyes spitting fire, and Ron takes it as his cue to leave. He grabs his stuff, stuffing it back where it belongs, and then scrambles out of there. He's half way up the stairs when he hears his mum's raised voice lower to sobs.

I'll run away to Hogwarts on my own, he thinks to himself, pushing down that little ball of guilt that sits in his stomach. I'll do it. I really will.

He enters his room, loudly, as if to make up for his lack of noise. If he listens closely, he can hear explosions sounding right below him in the twin's room, and he knows Percy is probably in his room studying or something. He could go down, join his siblings in their rooms, or in the garden, but he doesn't feel like seeing them today.

Instead, he settles against the bed, and grabs his pen again, idly tapping it up and down. He's waiting.

The day stretches out, like those in summer tend to, and nothing is resolved.


	2. For you who dreams

_I was planning on writing this like, two days after I posted the first chapter. As you can probably tell, that didn't happen. (I happen to be a very strong procrastinator.) So, here's the next chapter! If it seems rushed, I'm terribly sorry. I'm leaving for the next two weeks on vacation, and I wanted to get it out before then. I wanted it to be longer too, and add in some back story.. but that didn't happen either. Next chapter then!_

* * *

He sleeps fitfully that night. Under his eyelids dance visions of castles and ghosts and magic surging through him, strong and powerful. He dreams of all that, and he dreams that it's wrenched away from him, leaving him with a harrowing sense of loss. He wakes up periodically, shivering violently despite the summer air.

At one point, he thinks he can feel a hand running soothingly through his sweat soaked hair, and murmuring in the background, but he's already slipping back into the dream world to make sure.

Ron wakes the next morning, and blearily eyes the warm sunlight filling his room. It's unbearably hot inside, and he can already feel sweat collecting at his temples and under his clothes. He estimates it's around noon, then stumbles out of bed.

Grabbing the clothes hanging over his chair, he quickly gets dressed. Ron pads softly to the door, cautiously poking a head out, before taking a step into the hallway. It's quiet. His breath hitches slightly in nervousness. It's never this quiet in the Weasley household, unless something major's happened.

And the only thing that happened lately was getting his Hogwarts letter.

A grimace makes its home on his face. He figures his siblings must have, some way or another, found out about it. Letting out an inaudible sigh, he heads to the bathroom, moving slowly so as to prolong any interaction with the rest of his family. He brushes his teeth slowly, sluggishly. He didn't get quite enough sleep last night.

When he can't prolong his activities anymore, he makes his way down the stairs, making sure to step over that one step that creaks. He pads to the kitchen, which is empty, to his relief.

He snatches up a plate of cold eggs, bacon, and toast, presumably left on the counter for him. He stuffs it in his mouth, grimacing at its temperature, before dumping it in the sink and heading back upstairs.

The silence pervades the house.

Feeling unsettled, Ron returns to his room, and shuts the door firmly behind him. He walks over to his drawer, pulling out a battered box. Carefully, very carefully, he takes out the old chessboard, and its accompanying pieces. Ron runs his fingers gently over them, and they stir at his touch.

Just as he begins to set it up, there's an unmistakeable knock at the front door. Ron pauses in his actions, waiting, but no one goes to answer. He frowns at that, then gets to his feet.

When he opens the door, the last thing he expects to see is Albus Dumbledore standing on his doorstop, looking completely out of the ordinary. The man gives him a pleasant smile, eyes twinkling happily, and says, "Hello Ronald. Quite a nice home you've got here."

It's all he can do to keep his jaw shut. He regains his bearings as best as he can, and stumbles back, opening the door wider. An invitation.

Dumbledore nods, and steps inside. He heads briskly to the living room, leaving Ron to hurriedly close the door and scramble after him. He pulls out his notebook and pen, quickly jotting down 'Please wait here' and flashing it at Dumbledore, before going to find his parents.

It doesn't take very long. He first goes to the shed, where, as expected, his dad is tinkering away. With an insistent tug on his shirt, he leads his dad back inside the house, to where Dumbledore is sitting patiently.

"Dumbledore," his dad greets the wizard in surprise. The headmaster stands up and gives the two of them a benign smile.

"Are you here for Ron?" Ron's dad asks, glancing down at him.

"That would be correct," Dumbledore affirms.

"I'll go get Molly," his dad says. "Please, have a seat."

He goes off, and then Ron is left fidgeting in the presence of the headmaster. His fingers twitch briefly towards his notebook again, but he stops it just in time. Although he sorely wants to ask him about why he let him into Hogwarts, he doesn't know if it'll be appropriate. So he sits, and kicks his legs against the armchair, waiting for his parents to get back.

A clatter in the kitchen alerts him to their presence, and he can hear faint murmuring inside. Moments later, they come out, and his mum has biscuits and tea in hand. She sets in down on the coffee table, and then sits on the couch beside his dad, wringing her hands nervously.

Dumbledore helps himself to a cup, and after taking a sip, begins.

"I believe you realize that we need special measures for young Ronald to come to Hogwarts."

His mum tenses, looking like she's about to argue, but his dad places a hand on her shoulder, stopping whatever she was going to say. They exchange a glance, and she visibly deflates.

The silence discussion doesn't go unnoticed by either Ron or Dumbledore, and, after a brief pause, he keeps talking.

"Classes such as Potions and Astronomy will be fine as long as we provide Ronald with some sort of chalkboard. This lets him to answer questions in class."

Here, he pauses, and Ron leans forward.

"Of course," Dumbledore says. "There will always be verbal spells."

"He can't _talk_!" His mum bursts in at this. "How do you expect him to do verbal spells? He can't!"

"It's not impossible," he says back calmly, unfazed. "Students begin to learn nonverbal spells in later years."

"He's a beginner," she snaps, shrugging the hand on her shoulder.

"Then all he needs is practice. There's no other method."

Silence falls on the room at this, and his mum still looks furious. His dad just looks tired and worn, while Dumbledore takes another sip of his tea.

He turns to Ron, who had just watched the exchange wide eyed.

"You'll be attending all you regular classes," he states. "In addition to that, you'll be practicing nonverbal spells every night after dinner with a professor. After that, it's up to you."

Ron just stares back, not entirely sure how to respond. Dumbledore continues.

"Your situation is a unique one. This is something you can't do this half-heartedly. Do you understand?" He asks gravely.

Ron nods back determinedly. He doesn't want to go back to the life he held before. A life where he was looked down on, and mocked, and pitied. He grabs his notebook and scribbles something down, flipping it over to show his parents.

_Does this mean I can go to Hogwarts?_

"Molly…" his dad says slowly. Dumbledore watches the two of them carefully.

Her eyebrows are furrowed, and her entire figure screams tension. Ron bites his lip anxiously, pleading with her with his eyes.

He wants this. No, he _needs _this.

And then, she sighs.

"Alright," she says, sounding world weary. Ron winces slightly at that, guilt sloshing up inside of him. He observes her for a moment, and notes how deep her wrinkles are becoming.

Dumbledore stands, his objective accomplished.

His parents stand as well, and lead him to the front door. There's no small talk between them, just a brief murmur of words that Ron doesn't catch. He doesn't follow. Instead, he remains on the armchair, still in a daze from the events that just occurred. It feels like a dream, and he's almost afraid to move lest he wake up.

But it isn't a dream. He's really going to Hogwarts.

A slow smile starts to form on his face, and he can feel a small balloon of excitement fill his chest.

He can't wait.

* * *

_Also, I apologize for Dumbledore. I seriously can't write him. Again, any concrit on feedback would be appreciated! _


	3. And so it begins

_Sorry for the long wait! See, this is what I mean when I say writing multi chapters is hard - honestly, I'm starting to lose steam already, but I'm determined to pull through to the end. _So, we finally get into some back story, and things are moving a bit quicker now. Enjoy :)__

* * *

Ron fidgets in his seat, plays with his wand, absently drums his hand against the arm of the chair. He and his siblings were among the first ones in the train - people didn't usually start arriving till later, according to his brothers. He had insisted on coming early instead of rushing out the door like he saw them do every year. It would save him a lot of ridicule. He had positioned himself in the back of the train for that very reason.

Ron lets out a silent sigh, cursing his inability to speak. It was so _unfair_, he thinks bitterly to himself. No one else in his family, ever, had the disability. Even the nurses at St. Mungos have any idea what went "wrong".

He was absolutely silent as a baby, his mum would tell him. When he was born, the nurses had been unnerved because no matter what they did, he never cried, or made a noise. Everything else was working just fine, except his voice.

_Cursed_, they muttered to themselves when they thought she wasn't looking.

" …_destined to be a dark wizard."_

"…_nothing good will ever come of him."_

"_Why was he born?"_

_Cursed, _they repeated when he spent more time in the hospital than at home.

By the fourth year in the hospital, his mum had all but demanded him back, and they more than willingly acquiesced. He spent a few boring months at home with his siblings. And then, his parents started sending him to a muggle therapist. Ron felt a small smile briefly spread across his face at the thought of her.

She had been kind, unlike the nurses at St. Mungo's, and had helped teach him sign language. He could use it to communicate with others, she explained. And so, he eagerly threw himself into learning the method.

It took a year for him to be able to use it, although not quite as fluently as he wanted. He remembers beaming in pride upon being able to hold a conversation with her. She had patted his head and laughed as she saw him to the door, and that was the last he ever saw of her.

His parents couldn't support the cost of a therapist anymore.

To add salt to the wound, they wouldn't even bother learning sign language, and he had to resort to the written word.

Ron frowns at the seat across from him, and then shakes his head. It wouldn't do him any good to bring up bad memories, he decides. After all, he has time to start over now that he's in Hogwarts.

Feeling a bit better, he hops up from his seat and opens the door a crack. The hallways, although not crowded, are starting to fill with all sorts of students. He pushes the door open slightly as an unspoken invitation to come in, and then hurried back to his seat. Pulling out his notepad, he doodles absently on it, putting on a picture of nonchalance.

A shadow appears in the window, and his heart leaps into his throat.

But then it passes and he determinedly focuses his gaze on his notebook and his notebook only. That is, until another shadow passes by his door and he jerks his head up.

By this time, the hallway and the train station is jam packed with students. He peers out the window in the station, awed at the sheer amount of people swarming around. He looks for his parents and his sister, but they're swallowed up by the crowd. Ron opens the window and pokes his head out, seeing other students do the same. He then looks at the big clock on the wall.

It's five to eleven, and his compartment is still empty.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees one last scrawny student stumble frantically onto the train, but the sound of the door opening makes him turn hopefully. A second later, it plummets.

The familiar blonde at the door sneers at him, and he scowls right back.

"All alone, aren't you Weasley? Cause no one wants to catch your dirty disease."

_Shove off Malfoy_, he mouths at the other boy, but it only makes him laugh.

"What, got a problem? Why don't you say it to my face?" The boy exaggerates a thinking motion, before snapping his finger. "Oh right, I forgot! You can't!"

Ron lunges forward, intending to do something—_anything_, but he stops short when Malfoy stumbles forward from a trunk hitting him in the shin.

"Oh, sorry—I didn't see you there…" an unknown boy's voice trails off.

Ron grins victoriously at him, and the Malfoy huffily gets up and brushes himself off.

"Watch where you're going," he snaps. He sends Ron one last glare, before storming away like the little priss he is.

The boy who bumped into Malfoy peeks into the compartment. He's short – shorter than Ron is, but then again, most people are. He has a scrawny build, with messy black hair, and crooked glasses. It's the boy who dashed onto the train at the last moment, he realizes.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" the boy asks. "Everywhere else is full. I had a bit of trouble finding the entrance."

A muggleborn, Ron thinks.

He simply nods, and steps back from the doorway. The boy heaves his trunk in, and the two of them somehow manage to muscle it into the overhead storage. Then, they both collapse on the seat, exhausted.

The train hoots once, twice, and then sets off.

The boy sits up properly, and smiles at him.

"I'm Harry," he says. "Nice to meet you."

Ron grabs his notebook from his pocket, and flips to the page he had written and rewritten over and over again in his spare time. It had to be absolutely perfect.

On it is simply:

_I'm Ron. Nice to meet you. _


	4. Reach for that distant thing

_I'm terrible, I know. I checked my calendar and realized it's been two months since I updated, so... here you go. _

* * *

The two smile at each other briefly, shyly. Harry peers at the notebook, and then gestures at it, asking, "Why're you using a notebook?"

There's no mocking in his voice – only curiosity. It gives Ron the confidence to pull out his pen and quickly scribble something on the next page. It's only a single word, but it changes everything.

_Mute_

He shows the page to Harry, and in an instant, understanding flashes across his face. There's no pity, none at all. He can only find sympathy in the other boys' eyes, and it's such a relief that he feels his entire body turn to weak. He gives him a huge grin, and Harry returns it. He's unbelievably happy that the first person he came into contact with turned out to be nice. It makes him slightly more optimistic at the thought of encountering others.

Harry shifts, and the movement catches his eye. He points at the pen, puzzled.

"Are we allowed to bring stuff like that on?" he asks. "Hagrid made me buy quills and ink and stuff."

Ron simply shrugs.

_Much more convenient, isn't it?_

Harry agrees. "I don't see why we have to use these at all." He leans closers, lowering his voice to a whisper. "I'm afraid I might mess up in using these on my first day."

_It's not much different from a pen, _Ron writes quickly. _Just messier, I suppose. Got to wait for it to dry and all. Spilling the ink well is a nightmare too. _

That seems to be the ice breaker between them. They both relax, the train steadily chugging away towards Hogwarts, as the two of them jump leisurely from topic to topic. It's so strange – he'd never actually talked to anyone outside of family much, and here he was, holding a conversation easily.

Harry came from a muggle family, and lived with his Aunt and Uncle, he discovers. He didn't talk much about them, and from the way he quickly changed topics, Ron knew not to pry. So instead, he describes his huge family.

His mum, who was a great cook, and his father, who loves muggle things. He describes all his older brothers from Bill, to the twins. And then finally, he ends on Ginny.

He's used up three pages already, and he silently thanks his mum for forcing him to pack many empty notebooks. As Ron's about the last part about his little sister, with her obsession with Harry Potter, he pauses.

Harry… Potter?

He frowns. Considers. Glances at the boy sitting across from him.

The truth smacks him across the face, and he accidentally lets his notebook slip away from his hands. Ron lunges for it, then quickly flips to a new page.

_Are you Harry Potter?_

Harry nods.

He scrambles to writes something else. Probably around the lines of 'Why didn't you tell me?' or 'Whoa' or something equally stupid. Ron's halfway through writing it when he stops short.

The expression on Harry face is one he knows well. He sees it every time he looks in the mirror.

Harry didn't make a big deal out of his – his condition. The least he could do was the same.

So instead, he crosses out the page he was writing.

_Okay. _

Harry relaxes a bit at that.

"Is it noticeable?" he asks.

Ron just points at his forehead, and Harry hurries to cover the scar self-consciously.

_You look pretty normal. It's just the scar. But people are going to gossip eventually. I'm sure a few people are already whispering. _

Harry shrugs.

"That's alright."

The sudden opening of the door draws both of their heads. A woman stands there, with a cart, just in the hallway.

"Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harry jumps up and peers at the food offered. It's all sweets. He looks a little lost, but buys some of everything.

"Are you getting anything?" Harry asks.

Ron shakes his head, and the woman moves onto the next door.

"Haven't had breakfast yet," he says, looking at the pile of sweets.

Ron pulls out his own stack of sandwiches, far too much for him to finish on his own, and glances back at Harry's way. Corned beef. He frowns lightly, and takes a reluctant bite of the sandwich. Then another, and another. It's not his favourite, but it'd have to do.

Harry starts in on his own food, grabbing at random at the collection of sweets.

A comfortable silence settles between them, both preoccupied with eating. Well, Harry specifically, considering he'd been the only one doing the talking. It isn't until Ron's halfway through his second sandwich that Harry gestures towards the sweets.

"Want some?" he asks. "I don't reckon I'll finish even half."

Ron blinks at him, wide eyed. He sets down his food.

_Really?_

"Go on."

He reaches over to grab a pastry, tossing aside the sandwiches. He sighs lightly into the mouthful. _Much _better than any dry sandwich. He soon forgets about it, and together, the two boys slowly finish off the sweets stack.

He forgets to warn Harry about the jelly beans, and Harry's astonished cry has him whirling towards him, alarmed.

The jellybean, halfway chewed, is in his hand, and they stare at it.

"I just tasted something terrible," he said, looking vaguely horrified. Ron's face twitches into an amused smile.

_Sorry. Forgot to warn you. _

"It's okay," Harry says, and doesn't touch the jellybeans for the rest of the ride.

The half chewed jellybean finds a home next to the forgotten sandwich.

They're just about to start on the chocolate frogs when the door bursts open for the second time that day.

A girl stands in the doorway, her bushy hair partially blocking the nervous figure of a boy behind her.

"Is there a toad in here?" she asks, with a bossy tone to her voice. "Neville's lost his."

Ron and Harry glance at each other, and both shake their head. She glances over their clothes in distaste.

"You should get dressed soon," she says. Ron rolls his eyes. Harry frowns in confusion. "We're coming up to the school soon."

She doesn't move from her spot. Seeing as Harry wasn't going to ask her to leave, he grabs his stuff.

_And we're supposed to do that with you in here, are we?_

She leans forward to read what he's written, and huffs.

"If you're _going _to be so rude, you could at least say it to me."

"He's mute," Harry says from the side.

_That _makes her double take, and he feels a brief satisfaction before she goes, "_Really?_"

He nods, and she glances back at the boy behind her, before storming in. She sits right next to him. Neville, timidly follows her, standing awkwardly in the middle of the compartment, before Harry clears some space next to him. Ron eyes the girl, and shuffles down a bit.

"How does that work?" she asks. "Your muteness, I mean. Was it from birth? Head trauma? Hold on, how're you going to learn at Hogwarts?"

She fires the questions off one by one, and she's uncomfortably close now.

Thankfully, Harry comes to his rescue.

"Maybe we should change first?"

She sighs, eyeing him. "Oh, alright," she says. She tilts her head in thought. "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way," she adds as an afterthought.

Then she's out the door, dragging out Neville as well.

They both change into their robes. There's only a brief scare when Harry catches sight of Scabbers, but it's resolved quickly enough.

By the time they're done, Neville's gone back to his own compartment, and Hermione is right back, striding into the room. She sits down next to him again, determined to get her answers, but she's hardly down for a couple seconds when the train slows to a stop.

They've arrived at Hogwarts.


	5. A strange event happens

The train screeches to a stop suddenly, causing the three of them to stumble into each other. Hermione lets out a muffled screech as she lands on top on Ron, but the air quickly leaves her lungs when Harry lands right on her stomach.

The lights flicker once, twice, and then go out. They're plunged into complete darkness.

"Air…." Hermione protests weakly, and Harry hurriedly scrambles off. Ron takes a huge breath of air in relief.

They all, somehow or another, manage to fumble into a standing position. From the hallway they can hear loud exclamations of shock and anger.

"What do you think happened?" Harry whispers. "A power outage?"

"This is a magical train!" Hermione exclaims indignantly. "How can there be a power outage?"

Ron realizes very suddenly how inconvenient the darkness is. For all intents and purposes, he might as well not even be there. He can't write on his notebook – he can't communicate with them at all.

He bits his lip and holds in his frustration.

"Let's go out and check things out," Hermione says, striding for the door. Ron panics.

"No, wait," Harry says, grabbing blindly at her wrist. "We can't just leave Ron here! And besides, it's chaos out there."

She pauses and listens. The three of them hear the stampede of feet just outside their compartment. And then a voice rises above the masses, "My father will hear about this!"

It's unmistakably Draco Malfoy. Ron can sense Hermione rolling her eyes at that.

"What's his father going to do while we're stranded here?"

And then, from outside, "The doors aren't opening!" Instantly, the screaming is back.

"What are we gonna do?"

"I didn't sign up for this!"

"This hasn't happened before has it? Has it?!"

But just as the exclamations start, the doors slam open. The three of them scramble towards to window to see what's happening.

They can just make out the figure of a very old man with a long, winding beard. Behind him stands a humongous figure.

"That's Dumbledore!" comes Hermione's awed voice. "He's the Headmaster! And… there's someone else."

Dumbledore simply stands there, and slowly, the train goes silent again.

"I apologize for the disturbance," he says gravely. Then, he smiles. "April Fool's Day!"

* * *

Sorry not sorry

But I'm like, halfway through the chapter so it'll definitely be up by the end of this weekend! Look forward to it :)


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